


Hamster’s bliss

by Kana_Go



Series: Russian to English translations [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kana_Go/pseuds/Kana_Go
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brock Rumlow is really nervous he transforms into...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hamster’s bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to wonderful Lauralot for beta-reading

Alexander Pierce realized at once that the mission hadn’t gone as planned. The Strike team, seriously embattled, were keeping broody silence and hiding their eyes, only the Winter Soldier was looking up at him from under his eyebrows, his nostrils flaring. He was soaked in blood, every inch of him, as if he’d bathed in it, his hair became matted and hung in wisps, his uniform looked torn by a bear. In his cupped flesh and metal hands he was holding… Pierce blinked and took a closer look. In the Soldier’s cupped hands sat a dark tangled furball. Either a fuzzy ball, or a dead shrimp of a kitten.  
 “What’s this?” Pierce with no success tried to find the Strike commander and addressed the second-in-command instead. “Rollins, why do you allow the Asset bring some kind of dog’s meat from the field? And where is Rumlow?”

“Well,” replied Rollins in a suppressed voice. “He…um….”

“Dead? Where is the body?”

“No. He…well, he’s…”

“Was captured? Switched sides?”  
The latter was highly doubtful. It was hard to find a more loyal operative than Rumlow.

“No,” Rollins confirmed his doubts. “He…well…”

“Why on earth are you mumbling? Barber, Lambert, May, where is your CO?”

“Well…um…he’s…”

“Erm…”

“He’s…ugh…”

“Have you ganged up or what?” Pierce went mad. “Are you shell-shocked? Got exposed to some poison gas? Off with you! To the medical unit, now! Rollins, by twenty-hundred I need a full mission report and exact data about Rumlow’s or his body’s location. Is it clear?”

“Yes sir!”

“Nice of you to be able to articulate at least two words audibly.” Pierce commented sarcastically.”And take this… this garbage from the Asset at last.”

After the Strike team pushing each other and exchanging glances rushed out the door, Pierce shook his head angrily and poured himself a therapy dose of brandy. How was he supposed to build the new world order with such subordinates? Do you call it an elite op-group? They mumble, they’re secretive, they drag all sorts of nasty things… Got out of hand completely!  


***

Half an hour later the Strike members, lineup limited, washed and changed and recovered themselves a bit and then gathered in the lounge of the twenty fifth floor to hold an emergency meeting. The Soldier was here, too. He was still dirty and bloody as he gave such murderous looks to anyone who tried to come closer that no one dared to send him to the showers for disinfection. Finally the Soldier took the soft chair in the corner (and dirtied it with blood beyond hope) while the others carefully parked themselves around.  
“Well, we have a problem on the table,” Rollins said sullenly. “How should we explain to Pierce that Rumlow…um…what happened to Rumlow?”

“And find out why it happened to him.” Barber added.

“It’s not so important after all.” May objected. “No one’s going to listen till this moment. We’re going to be sent to psych evaluation straight away.”

“If we find out the reason we’ll be able to turn him back.” Barber clarified. “Probably in this case we won’t have to explain anything to anyone.”

 “Well of wisdom.” Rollins complimented sarcastically.

It seemed at this point all wisdom was gone. The Strike members were sitting in silence and mindlessly staring at the dark ball huddling in the Soldier’s hands. Just a couple of hours ago this very furball was their direct CO.

“Look, it doesn’t move at all.” Tausig observed thoughtfully. “Already popped off probably, huh?”

“You popped off!” May sniffed. “He just has his fur all sticky and tangled. If you had your hair down to your ankles you haven’t cruised around, either. We need to wash him.”  
“You must not wash hamsters,” Lambert chipped in. “My niece has a Djungarian hamster. You may only brush them and bathe in special sand.”

“Djungarian?” Rollins asked. “What breed is this though?”

They stared at the hamster again. Honestly, one could hardly recognize a hamster in it at all, not to speak of the breed.

“ Djungarians are smaller,” Lambert scratched his head. “Maybe this one is a goldhamster?”

“Those are golden, aren’t they? This one is kinda blackish.”  
Rollins pushed his memory harder and remembered his visit to a pet store two years ago. Then again he couldn’t be sure because he had been blind drunk and looked for some food for a boa snake. Later that snake turned out to be an alcoholic hallucination.

“If we don’t wash him, he’ll pass away for sure.” May said emphatically. “Did you hear about the Golden Boy? He was fully covered with paint and died of hypothermia.”

“If we put him into water,” Lambert objected. “He’ll catch a cold, pneumonia and cardiac rupture out of shock. My niece told me so.”

“In the first place the cardiac rupture will hit the one who’s going to take him from the Soldier.” Rollins interposed. Then he stumbled on a great idea. “Asset!” He ordered. “I have a really important mission for you. Go to the showers and wash the Comman…um…wash this little hamster clean!”

The Soldier quietly stood up and headed purposefully to the room where he usually washed himself. Afterwards the lounge sank into silence. Someone was gazing into vacant space. Someone was drowsing. May picked up a netbook and was making some mysterious web research.

About twenty minutes later Rollins stumbled on the second great idea.

“I wonder,” he mused. “What if the Soldier decides to wash Bro…erm…the hamster in the same way as technicians wash him.”

“How’s that?” Lambert startled.

“With a hose.”

All of them exchanged looks and ran to the showers.

“Do they really just hose the Asset down?” Tausig asked while running.

“Not usually.” Rollins answered. “But when he’s very dirty and in a nasty mood…”

Both the hamster and the Soldier were definitely very dirty and in a nasty mood, that’s why on all the short way to the showers Rollins was intensely chasing away the picture drawn with his imagination – the hamster spread thinly over the wall with a powerful spurt of warm water from the very best motives. Poor old Brock… He wouldn’t wish such death for himself…  
They slowed down in front of the door and went inside carefully, almost on tiptoe. A little room was filled with steam, deafly heard splashing, quiet tuneless humming and small but very outraged screeching.

The Soldier was sitting with his back to the door, clean already, with a towel wrapped round his waist. Rollins cleared his throat. When the Soldier didn’t answer, he warned “Asset, I’m going to approach from the back.”

No answer again. So he approached and looked over the Soldier’s shoulder. In front of the Soldier there was a big metal soap dish, halfway full of water. In the water, in the halo of its own fur, the hamster was swimming. And screeching. The Soldier was humming something gently and soaping its little back with his two fingers.

“Everything’s under control.” Rollins reported coming back to the door. “Bro… I mean, the hamster is alive, almost clean. In fact, he isn’t just bathing, he even knows how to swim.”  
May craned her neck.

“Is he washing him with a common soap? If you do want to wash a hamster you should use a special rodent shampoo. Commander Rumlow won’t be happy to transform back only to find his half head bald.”

“I guess he’ll be really happy to transform back if anything.” Rollins grumbled. “At least we did without hoses.”

***  


Everyone moved back to the lounge. The Soldier put the hamster onto the coffee table and was drying it with a hairdryer stolen somewhere. The hamster was screeching really loudly.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have washed him after all.” Barber said. ”Leastwise, he was quiet then.”

For all he might say, washing clearly did the hamster much good. It fluffed into nearly twice as much as its size. The dark gray fur on its head and legs remained short but the rest of its body now looked outright shaggy, especially its rear part.

“Just like some shagged panties.” Tausig remarked thoughtfully. He managed to get some whisky no one knew from where and became tipsy disastrously fast. “Does that mean now you can shout “Commander, carry your hairy ass here!” in the literal sense of the word?”

The hamster wiggled out from under the hairdryer and rushed to him menacingly.

“Do hamsters bi…?” Tausig asked.

In no time everybody found out that hamsters could not only swim but also jump really high and fasten their jaws just as well as pit bulls. Luckily, the hamster missed Tausig’s fingers and hung on his shirt cuff instead. Tausig jerked his arm up reflexively but knew better than to shake his hand. The poor hamster couldn’t unclench its teeth threatened with falling at a serious height, so it was just hanging, kicking his little legs up in the air and screeching through clenched teeth angrily.

“Hey,” Tausig raised his hand some more. “What’s this stuff dangling?”

At first no one could understand what he meant then May rolled her eyes.

“The same stuff that you have, asshole. He’s a boy after all.”

“Wow,” Tausig said respectfully. “Such a tiny hamster but such… Real dude!”

“Goldhamsters generally have these body parts…humpf…quite outstanding.” May said cajolingly. “But if you don’t let the poor hamster go right now I’ll tell Commander Rumlow that you grabbed his balls. When he transforms back he’ll surely tear off _your_ nuts.”

The hamster squeaked in the affirmative and made several energetic masticatory movements. Probably, it wanted to say that it was ready to get to work straight away.

“How come… Me? I didn’t grab anyone.” Tausig, frightened, lowered his hand.

The hamster felt a solid surface under its paws, unclenched its teeth and went to seek safety in May’s hands.

“What dear are you.” She tickled under its jaw. “Marvie.”

The hamster sniffed indignantly and headed for Rollins. Here he paused for several seconds as if waiting him to call it all kinds of unmanly pet names, too, then settled down on his lap.

“So he’s a goldhamster.” Rollins said and felt with horror an upcoming urge to call his commander Baby or Fluffy. “Why isn’t he golden then?”

“They go in different colours.” May gestured with her netbook. “I’ve read much of useful intel. Can you imagine…”

No one had any chance to find out what exactly they were supposed to imagine. But they surely couldn’t imagine that a second later furious Rumlow would appear on Rollins’s lap. However, he didn’t stay there for long and crashed down on the floor swearing his head off. Fortunately, his clothes were still on.

“Ah, Brock!” Rollins brightened up. “How cool that you transformed back because Pierce there…”

“OK,” Rumlow bolted on his feet. “I’m going to deal with Pierce. Meanwhile… You,” he thrust his finger at the Soldier. “Thanks for taking me away out of that mess. Remember in details in what circumstances I… shifted. You, “he pointed at May. “Don’t you dare to call me a marvie! And you…” he squinted at Tausig who sobered up really fast. “You can kiss goodbye to your package. If the old man doesn’t mop me, I’ll come back and make the Ken doll of you, savvy?” He glanced over his quietened subordinates. “Don't say a word to anyone! Rollins, be at my quarters in two minutes. We must think up of talking our way out of this.”

After Rumlow whirled away from the lounge it was deadly silent for several moments, apart from quiet humming. The Soldier considered that he wouldn’t have to dry any more hamsters in the near future and turned to his wet hair.

“Well,” Rollins said finally. “I hope it was a… one-time thing but we need a protocol, just in case. May, an assignment for you. I guess you managed to read not only about the size of hamster’s balls that’s why you’ll be responsible for intel. What hamsters should be fed with, where they should be kept and so on. Clear?”

“OK will do!” May rapped out. “But sir, do you really think it can occur again?”

“I want to believe we really just got exposed to some poison gas.” Rollins sighed. “But we need a protocol just the same.”  
***  
Thereafter Rollins applauded himself for foresight more than once. The protocol really came in handy. Very much so.

They managed to specify that every time Rumlow turned into a hamster it was after being affected by… strong negative emotions. Luckily, it wasn’t enough to knock his little toe against a nightstand. Sadly, a fighter, a double agent and just a good reckless guy had in his life enough negative stuff which was more serious than a bruised toe. He couldn’t even stuff his face with sedatives – it was impossible to perform his task with brain fog and dulled reactions. By means of all his self-control Rumlow was able to keep his human form as long as it needed to come back after a mission and render a report. He scarcely found himself outside Pierce’s office when things went… hamster, yeah. Perhaps, Rumlow might be glad to hole up and sit a spell out, but the hamster was afraid of loneliness and attracted to a company. To make things worse, the company was attracted to the hamster. As soon as Rumlow _hamsformed_ , his subordinates darted as if by magic from around every corner and attacked him with care.

Rollins dragged him to the gym where they invaded a treadmill and a hamster wheel respectively for hours. 

Barber treated him to yoghurt and chocolate. Yoghurt and chocolate are surely very harmful for hamsters but much better than whisky anyway because at times like these Rumlow intensely wanted to get shitfaced. Nevermind. You only live, as hamsters have it, two years and a half. Whatever.  
May stroked his fur. However, too soon she moved to snuggling and baby talk. In that case Rumlow chirred and screeched until someone rushed to rescue him.

Lambert made climbing frames of popsicle sticks and hamster tubes of empty toilet paper rolls. Completing this obstacle course settled Rumlow’s nerves quite well.

The Soldier bathed him. After that first time he somehow took into his head that Rumlow liked it. Rumlow didn’t really like to take a bath though he did enjoy being dried with a hairdryer. Besides, he found out that the Soldier even knew two lullabies ( _Hush, Little Baby_ and _All the Pretty Little Horses_ ) but definitely had a tin ear or even both tin ears.

As for Tausig, after the incident with specific parts of hamster anatomy the hamster came to hate him with every fiber of his hamster soul. When human Rumlow treated Tausig with professional indifference, hamster Rumlow bit him badly twice, pissed on him three times and once even managed to drop on his head from a cabinet unit in his hamster ball. How was a hamster in a hamster ball able to climb to the top of a cabinet unit? You should make reference to Captain Rollins’s Logbook. But first things first…

In one of the offices appeared a little safe, contents of which were guarded better than Pierce’s underground shelter with Helicarriers. In that safe the next items were kept: two tiny bowls, a special drinking bottle, a cat comb, a bag of wood pellet litter, some store-bought grain mixture, a plastic pet carrier and a hotpink hamster ball. Along with that, demand drove up repeatedly for vegetarian menu (except cabbage) in the cafeteria and Rollins started a diary where he meticulously wrote down all hamster related events hoping to find the way to bring back a pre-hamster era. Very soon the diary acquired a mock title Captain Rollins’s Logbook. In its pages one could find entries like these:

_*_

_March_ _14_ _th_ _._ _Brought a lady hamster for Brock. I knew he would kill me but I was too curious. The lady kicked his ass, snatched the last carrot and hunkered down under the armchair. Brock pretended it didn’t happen. Well, Brock, little did I know what a henpecked husband you were_ …  
_*_

 _April 5 th. Watched on YouTube that hamsters’ cheek pouches were almost up their knees. Decided to check if Brock kept something in them. It turned out that yes, just like every normal hamster, he did. But when all normal hamsters keep peas and grapes in there, Brock carries 22. Long Rifle cartridges. It almost brought tears to my eyes. That’s my commander to a T. Worthy alternative to a tac vest, you know._  

_*_

_May 15 th. Today Tausig almost died of heart attack when Brock in his pink hamster ball tumbled on that idiot’s calabash from the cabinet unit. I realize that Brock has enough will-power and vigor to sink a battleship but will-power can’t help a hamster climb onto a cabinet unit top, especially in a hamster ball. Someone clearly gave him a lift but nobody admits to it. I suspect the Asset. I peeped on the cabinet unit and found a tiny sniper rifle. They couldn’t play soldiers there, could they? Hell with him, it’s not like he’s going to confess, anyway._    
***

Sadly, in spite of interesting entries, the diary didn’t help to make progress in solving the mystery of Rumlow’s situation. But totally unexpectedly everything passed by itself about two years later. By the end of the third month without spells of _cricet_ _anthropy_ Rumlow invited everyone privy to the case for some drinks in the bar. The Soldier included. The man, however, had to settle for lemon soda.

“The hamster kicked the bucket,” Barber blew on his beer head. “I guess I shouldn’t have given chocolate to him, after all.”

Rumlow snorted.

“You should have given alcohol to it. Probably, then we wouldn’t have waited for so long.”

“It’s a pity,” May sighed. “He was so fluffy…”

“Buy your own and snuggle it.” Rumlow shuddered. “As for me, I won’t be able to look at oat and other hay for the next two hundred years.”

“Will do.” May decided. “I’ll buy exactly the same goldhamster. Especially since we already have all this hamster stuff.” She started to browse pet store sites in her phone.

Tausig whom overjoyed Rumlow invited, too, was keeping his trap shut wisely. Deep inside he was clearly dancing the cancan on the hamster’s imaginary grave.

The Soldier was thoughtfully staring at Rumlow over the rim of his glass. In the depth of his cold blue eyes Rumlow saw vague nostalgia and the unshaped wish to keep dragging him, Rumlow, to the showers and sing lullabies to him. Rumlow shivered and concluded that the fifth mug was one too many.

“Well, you’re lucky it was just a hamster.” Rollins resumed.

“Why is that?” Rumlow asked suspiciously.

“Use your brains, Brock. For example, tortoises can live to one hundred fifty years old.”

And then Rumlow realized that he was really very _very_ lucky it was just a hamster.    


END

**Author's Note:**

> Visualisation http://2.firepic.org/2/images/2015-11/17/91mntn3lzgn3.jpg


End file.
